Blood and Magic
by SubtleLullaby74
Summary: Hogwarts Class of '77: Book 1. The first year of Hogwarts, 1971, as seen through the eyes of Severus Snape, Lily Evans, James Potter, and the rest of their classmates. A House has become secretive, and the school as a whole is suspicious, feeling the promise of dark magic and thievery among themselves. This is Severus' new House, but his only friend is in the same as his enemy.


Hello, all. Yes, it's me.** I keep noticing emails with the heading ' - Story Alert' and I'd just like to let you all know that I can't even find an appropriate way to thank you for staying with me. **Unfortunately, I couldn't bring myself to continue writing a story of which I am unbelievably ashamed. The grammar is still atrocious, and the storyline has changed and broken and changed again so many times that it looks like a mess more than anything else. However, I will continue writing that story, because I feel like, as I started writing it years ago, it deserves a conclusion. **However, a****bout a year ago, I started writing something else.**

**This, folks, is an HP fic based off of the years previous to Hogwarts. **The main focus of the story is Severus Snape; however, I plan on writing the histories of _all_ Magical students of the **Hogwarts class of ca. '77.** There will be chapters specifically** dedicated to all of them, including: James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, Lily, Snape, Bellatrix, Lucius, Narcissa, Hagrid, characters briefly mentioned in Chapter 33 of _HP: DH_, Luna's unnamed mother, Xenophilius, and other parents** whom I believe deserve a place somewhere in this story.

However,** the majority of the book will be in Snape's point of view. Especially this one, the first of seven.**

At the end of each chapter,** I will explain reasoning behind my interpretations in 'Story Notes.'**

**I've planned this story ahead of time,** and will be writing all seven years (if all goes according to plan, of course).

So as not to upset you all further, here is the first chapter, **with the promise of a continuation of my Hunger Games fic.**

**DISCLAIMER: Certain scenes use direct dialogue and events **(the events written out in my own words from a different POV)** from J.K. Rowling's _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. _I do not own **all of** the dialogue from such scenes, nor do I own the event that occurs.**

**I do not own any of the characters, all of which** _in this_ _chapter_** are property of J.K. Rowling's brilliant imagination.**

* * *

_Year: ca. 1969, summer._

Small Red Flower

_"[Lily] had a way of seeing the beauty in others; even, and perhaps most especially, when that person couldn't see it in themselves."  
__-Remus Lupin_

His father was furious with him again. A vein began pulsing in his jaw as he raised his voice into a yell, a touch of blue standing out from the red; Severus did his best to fasten his attention onto that vein instead of the words coming out of his father's mouth.

It was often that his father did this, but Severus had never become desensitized to these attacks, despite that they usually remained verbal. Tobias Snape had never loved his son, that much was obvious. It was usually the same; the same threats, the same insults, the same closet. Severus never dared to respond to his father, for that was when the yelling escalated into something much, much worse.

"You're not _my_ child!" he was spitting, his eyes seeming to bulge out of his head. Severus took note of this with a wistful curiosity- maybe they would finally pop out of their sockets one day. "You're the _devil's_ son! Using your dreaded, wicked _magic_ to harm me..." -as if it were ever Severus' fault- "You better not get worse or I'll..." he started looking rather sick, then, though, and stopped to take a breath. When he continued, his eyes had considerably darkened, and his breathing sounded quite labored.  
"You better get yourself into Slytherin," his voice dropped into a flat tone that was nearly more menacing than when his voice was raised in fury. A tone that, in later years, Severus would emulate almost perfectly. As the grown man stepped forward, backing his son into the small, dark closet, the murderous look in his eye seemed to intensify. "Maybe then, in your mother's class, you can learn _discipline!_ Some _control! Some sense! _Maybe they can _beat_ into you what you are so obviously too _horrific _to learn for your_bloody_self!_"_ He started gripping at his hair, pulling at it, straining at it, as if _it_ were the one attacking _him_.

His father was, and had always been, a very strict man; his values were centered in normalcy; he believed that wizardry was the work of a devil, an oddity that had been forced upon only the weak, that the strong could resist. When Severus was younger, he hadn't understood what he had been doing to anger his father. The others he had met had been kind, peace-loving folk that had welcomed him (it wasn't until a few years after their last visit, when he was six, that he had learned that they had been his _mother's_ friends, friends that he hadn't seen since his father had first shouted at them).  
He hadn't known why father had acted so differently, had wondered what he had ever done to deserve the treatment he received. Now, though, he knew; his father was a muggle. A non-magical, sensitive, defensive muggle. His father had been a menace for years, as far back as Severus could remember. Severus had thought the worst of him since, even considering that Tobias claimed to believe in forgiveness, had 'forgiven' his mother. Severus found that hard to believe, considering the raised voices and piercing screams he sometimes heard from the kitchen, whenever he had been locked in his room.  
Severus, he now knew, was not worthy of forgiveness as his mother had been.  
Sometimes he was glad this was the case.

Slytherin, Tobias Snape had said many times before, was Severus' last and only hope of becoming a better man. Severus' mother, who was rarely around as she was consumed by her work, had been a witch of that House. As the muggle he was, Severus' father knew little of magic, and had only wanted to marry his mother before she had revealed that she was a witch. His father had been determined to stay with her by that time, as they had already had a child; Severus assumed that this was Tobias' idea of dignity, to remain with the woman he had chosen to be his wife. He also assumed that Tobias Snape refused to admit to having married a witch without having been aware, being the normal, 'strong' man that he was. Severus often imagined Eileen Prince as having been a kind woman before she had met his father; he imagined that now, after years of exposure to his abuse, she was an empty shell of her old self.  
Severus couldn't know for sure if it was true. All he knew was that it gave him hope; gave him hope that, maybe, if at least one of his parents had been worth something once, that he would be, too.

"Hideous bloody troll," his father spat, returning to the topic he seemed to speak of the most. "Any kindness given to you will be given out of _pity; _you're such a skinny, ugly, broken-nosed..."

Severus knew how much his mother hated his father, too. She had never loved him for anything but the front that he had put on around her when they first met. Even that had melted away with the reveal of his mother's heritage. Mr. Snape had pretended for her from the beginning, and now he was nothing more than a bully towards her and her son. His mother knew now the awful man that her husband was. The only reason she remained with him was to hide her own shame.

Severus still didn't exactly know what to make of his mother.  
She was a gentle woman, but a weak woman. Slytherin had strengthened her just enough to survive the man she had married, to fight back; but not near enough to encourage her to leave him.

Severus' father bore down on him, words momentarily escaping his incapable, apish brain. Severus had learned well never to respond to his father's rages, even knowing that silence angered Tobias more. However, Severus knew that responding at all would arouse a result much more painful than the one he would receive if he remained silent.  
Silence was safe; disrupt it enough, and pain followed suit.

"Rot in this closet," his father hissed. "You ruined my wife, you ruined me, and the worst of it all is that you're _useless._"

_Useless. _The word seemed to echo hollowly inside his head as the closet door slammed shut in his face and darkness enveloped him; the meaning was clear, but he hated the truth of it.

It seemed to be the one thing Tobias Snape hated the most about his son. He was a business man, a no-nonsense CEO of a major company, one that packaged supplies to be sent to the large department stores outside the neighborhood limits. His only job was to become more and more powerful, his only wish to have a son of which he could be proud, to have a _family_ of which to be proud. Earlier in Severus' life, his father had tried to experiment on him, cutting off his hair, only to find it had grown back the next day. He had washed it, applied special oils, shampoos, conditioners, moisturizers... But none of it had ever helped, for the moment his hair became even remotely tamed, it rebelled instantly. All Tobias Snape had wanted to do was make his son presentable, but it seemed that Severus would never look any different. He would always be the skin-and-bones, greasy-haired kid that lived on Spinner's End. The dark-haired, black-eyed, pale-skinned boy whom nobody liked, with which nobody wanted anything to do.

That was what his father believed.

Tobias wanted a handsome son. He had wanted a son that would make him feel proud of his own looks, but Severus wasn't handsome at all- he had inherited the worst traits of both his mother and his father. The pale, sallow skin and dark, greasy hair of his mother, the hooked nose and beady eyes of his father.

Mr. Snape had tried to put Severus to work, to make him clean the windows, the floors, the appliances... After all, if he couldn't make something of his son, why not at least garner the work out of him? But the dish soap would dirty the dishes, the windows would break, the floors would gather dirt as the dust was swept away.

It hadn't been long before his mother had told Severus' father that things only went sour when a wizard was upset. That had been the mistake that led him to where he was now; that had been when Tobias had lost all hope in Severus. Severus hated the yelling; sometimes he wanted to blame his mother, but he knew that it was his own fault for causing the rages.  
When Tobias Snape had first come to him with his angry words, an awful mole had arisen in the middle of his forehead. The second time, a roach had landed on his nose and clung to him like glue. The third time, the light above him had shattered and the falling glass had cut his wrist, blood flowing freely from the wound as if a dam had been split.

Every time, something worse happened.

Every time, the shouting got louder.

And every time, Severus tried as hard as he could to refrain from causing his father any more harm. But how could he, when he didn't even know what he was doing in the first place?

That had been years ago, before his mother had begun sending him to the muggle school to learn his maths, sciences, language, and muggle history.

Once he had learned about books, about what they could offer him, he yearned for more. One day, he found his mother's old study books from Hogwarts, a school that would enroll him when he was old enough. He kept them hidden in this closet, the very same in which his father often punitively locked him away; he kept them just behind the wall beside the door. He knew his father never bothered to look there.

Every time he was locked inside that painfully small, dark room (which was often) he would pull a flashlight from behind the books and pour over them, trying to find solace in the words. _Hogwarts: A History _became to him what most children considered a story book. The books from his mother's time at Hogwarts taught him how to control the effects of his emotions on his surroundings, until finally, if he really focused, he could prevent them.

It was too late to convince his father not to despise him, though.

He missed his mother when she worked. She wasn't so bad. And when she was sober, she was his closest friend, his only friend. But as time passed, he found her sober less often.  
This correlated with the amount of shouting in the house.

When he heard his father's car engine rumble to life in the driveway, and eventually the crackle of gravel as he rolled away, Severus shined his flashlight at the closet's doorknob. It locked from the outside, as closets that locked often did, but with practice, he'd learned how to unlock it from the inside.

It was a simple lock to pick, really, and all he needed to do was push something hard and narrow into the crack of the lock and maneuver it until he heard the clicking of the inside tumblers. He kept a sharp paperclip behind his books for that exact purpose. His father, it seemed, had never considered his escape a possibility.

After a spare second or two, he heard the final, encouraging _click _of the lock giving in to his efforts. He opened the door and quietly snuck out, alert for any signs that it hadn't been his father's car he'd heard.

The house was silent.

He placed his books in their hiding place and turned off the flashlight, scooting it behind them and dropping the paperclip alongside it. He immediately headed out of the house, hoping to drown out his thoughts with the laughter of the other children on his street. The only supervised outside-time he got was on the muggle school grounds, and he hated that place almost as much as the other kids hated him.

There were a few kids in his neighborhood, though, that weren't as bad as the others. He liked to listen to these children play in their yards, and sometimes he liked to watch them.

Most of the children were younger or older than he was, though their laughter was still nicer to listen to than the screaming coming from within his house. His favorite children to watch were the Evans girls; they were nearly his age exactly, and seemed to always be outside, at the small playground not far from his home.

He went there today, and hid himself behind a bush several yards from where they played. He watched, as he always did, as Lily preformed amazing tricks for her sister.

At first he had dismissed them for idle muggle attempts at magic, mere trickery, but after reading his mother's books, he began to notice the indications that it was something much more complicated than that. That had been months ago, and he was still too timid to approach them. Even if one of them was probably a witch.

Lily Evans _was_ a witch. Not only did she preform simple magics all the time, but she... _felt_ like a witch, like she _must_ be one. He couldn't explain it.  
He would go up there today. He would.

As he stood there watching the girls talking, he thought about, as he often did, how alone he was. His eyes settled on Lily as she swung higher and higher into the air as he thought about how much he _wanted _to live like Lily and Petunia. He wanted that kind of person for himself. He wanted a friend. Like Petunia was to Lily, like Lily was to Petunia.

He took a deep breath and watched them for a minute longer.

Lily was getting higher and higher on her swing. Her sister watched from below, a nervous expression on her face.  
"Lily, don't do it!" Petunia finally called out as Lily was reaching a 200-degree angle. Lily seemed to be ignoring her, eyes closed to the wind, hair flying back behind her. He kept watching.

Petunia was becoming even louder now, voice becoming shriller, face becoming anxious, tears forming in her eyes. Severus watched with increasing interest, leaning forward through the bushes as Lily's angle widened. Finally, Lily let go, and she went soaring through the air, higher,_ further_, then she should have been able to if she were just a muggle. Instead of plummeting to the ground, she gently floated down, landing on her toes like a ballerina, giggling the entire time. Severus squinted in interest. It was impossible that she _wasn't _a witch.

"Mummy told you _not_ to!" Petunia said, struggling to stop the seat from swinging before it could perform another arc, shoes digging into the ground as she struggled with the swing. She finally disrupted the swing's momentum and turned to look at Lily severely. "Mummy said you weren't allowed, Lily!" Petunia scolded again, still upset despite the fact that Lily was safely on the ground, smiling at her.

"But I'm fine," Lily protested. As if to demonstrate, she stretched into a spread-armed pose, standing on one leg, the other stretched out horizontally in the air; she was grinning widely. She then picked up a small red flower in her hand, holding it out to her sister. "Tuney, look at this. Watch what I can do," she said excitedly, and the petals of the flower opened and closed like a grasping hand. From his vantage point in the bushes, Severus was amazed. He doubted _he_ could do that, even considering all of the books he'd read.

"Stop it!" Petunia shrilled, horrified.

"It's not hurting you," Lily argued mutely, looking disappointed. She slowly tossed the flower to the ground, watching it drift into the grass reluctantly.

"Its not right," Petunia decided, then leered at her sister in accusation. Her eyes dwindled, though, to where the flower had fallen. She stared at it in thinly veiled yearning. "How do you do it?" she asked, the longing layering over her voice.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Severus had spoken without meaning to do so, stepping up from behind the bushes before he could stop himself. Petunia shrieked and ran several steps backward. Lily, however, remained where she was, watching him warily. He felt the blood fill his cheeks; at that moment, he would have given anything to just've stayed put in the bushes, where it was safe.

But Severus was standing too far from where he had hidden, too far to go back. He had just gotten too annoyed at Petunia's ignorance. Couldn't she see that her sister was special?

Petunia's eyes narrowed from afar at him; he understood it might have seemed strange, suddenly appearing from the bushes as he had. Lily, he noticed, was standing with a ridged posture; straight-faced and calm. She hadn't moved a step.

"What's obvious?"

Lily's sister grimaced from her position near the swings, gripping the side bar firmly. Severus wasn't looking at her, though. He walked forward a little, approaching Lily carefully, slowly, as he might a doe that would startle at any sudden movement.

"I know what you are."

"What do you mean?" Lily asked, her voice low but curious. Her eyes barely wandered for a moment to the flower on the ground, but just as quickly refocused on Severus.

"You're...," he began, his voice cracking. He gulped quietly and tried again, "you're a witch," he finally stuttered. He watched her hopefully, waiting for her to realize that it all made sense.

Instead, she looked stung. He could only watch her, nervous and confused, as she gaped at him, something like hurt touching her eyes.  
"_That's _not a very nice thing to say to somebody!" she exclaimed. He could tell she was trying to act angry, but tears were beginning to form in her eyes. She stormed off toward her sister, grabbing the swing-set side-bar as well. He knew that they were afraid of him, and carefully took a small step back, hoping in vain that the small movement would somehow make things better.

Petunia took her sister by the shoulders protectively, glaring at Severus.

"No... You _are,_" Severus insisted. "You _are _a witch. I've been watching you for a while. But there's nothing wrong with that. My mum's one, and I'm a wizard."

He'd only just finished speaking when Petunia let out an awful, ice-cold laugh, the same nasty, condescending thing that he'd heard from his mother as she talked down to his father. Lily looked over at him, tears streaming down her face.  
But there. Just there, he could swear he saw something of interest behind the tears. He felt his chest begin to warm slightly.

Then Petunia spoke, and stomped on the embers.  
"Wizard!" Petunia mocked him, her courage having returned since his initial appearance from behind the bushes. "_I _know who _you _are. You're that Snape boy!" she said smartly, "They live down Spinner's end by the river," she informed Lily. "Why have you been spying on us?" she inquired accusingly, addressing Severus directly again.

"Haven't been spying," Severus said, face turning red again in the brightness of day. "wouldn't spy on _you _anyway. _You're _a muggle," he snapped angrily, trying to cover for the redness in his cheeks.

Petunia looked about as affronted as Lily had. She glared at him. "Lily, come on, we're leaving!"

They stomped off, Petunia looking even angrier than even her sister had.  
When they disappeared around a corner and out of his sight, he felt the small glow of hope in his chest extinguish completely. She was gone, he'd ruined his only chance.  
Severus sat down hard on the bench beside the bushes there on the playground, staring at the red flower that the two sisters had left behind. He wanted to be friends with Lily, needed to be friends with her- she was a witch; she was like him, when nobody else was.  
Besides possibly his mother. Sometimes.  
But she was never home, and when she was, things were worse.

But how could he be her friend, if it seemed that everything his father said was true? He'd tried to make friends before, but everyone had either ignored him or left, laughing at him. He'd thought maybe the Evans girls would be different... But it was his fault, wasn't it? Next time he would think of something better to say... Next time...

Would they come back, if they knew he was there?

He hunched over on the bench, gaze drifting glumly to the grass near the sandbox, for a long time. He thought he might have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, night was already falling. He thought that his father must have gotten home by now, but then again, wouldn't he assume Severus was still in the closet? He didn't want to get up and leave yet, to return to that mess. He sat silently, picking at the skin of a leaf, slowly tearing it to pieces. What had he been thinking?

When the dimness truly began to gather, he reluctantly stood to leave. But upon getting to his feet, he saw something duck down behind the huge oak tree that shrouded the playground in shade; the hasty movement was just quick enough to catch his eye. He moved closer, slowly, trying to get a better look at what had moved so suddenly. He assumed it had just been a branch getting blown back by a gust of wind, but he would do anything to stall his return home. He closed the distance, rounding the tree slowly. He finally reached to the side of the tree that had been previously facing away from him, and rounded it quickly. Instead of what he expected to see, he found himself face to face with Lily Evans, nearly knocking right into her.

It was dim, but it was not too dark to mistake her. She was shorter than her sister, not as bony and stiff. Her hair was longer, a dark red where her sister's was light brown. She had a kind face whereas her sister seemed to always look a little stern. Lily wasn't smiling now, though, and there wasn't kindness in her eyes; instead she was gasping at his sudden appearance and tripping backward on a tree-root. She grunted when she hit the ground.  
"Ugh!"  
"I-I'm sorry," Severus stuttered, still surprised to see her alone so late. He leaned down a little, offering her his hand. "Are you okay?"  
She scooted away from him at first; he let out a deep breath, dissatisfied that he'd really made such an awful impression, but she didn't get up to leave just yet. He waited, still waiting hopefully for a response.

"Yeah," she answered after a short pause. "Yeah, I'm... fine."

"Good," he said hesitantly. He was still frightened that she might run off before he could explain himself.

She watched him silently for some time. He found himself flushing, glad for the dimness of the evening. He wondered if her parents knew she was out. And where was Petunia? Weren't they usually together? What was she doing here so late by herself? How had she gotten here without Severus noticing?

"You're staring at me," Lily said, squinting at him through the dimness.

"I just..." he coughed, "I was just wondering what you were doing here so late."

"Why would you call me a witch?" she asked, out of the blue. She changed the subject so quickly that Severus couldn't answer her immediately. He was still holding out his hand. She took it finally, filling the silence with the movement. Her hands were warm.  
She had let him help her up. He felt like laughing.  
He didn't.

"It wasn't an insult."

"My parents think it is."

"Well, they're wrong," he said indignantly, without thinking.  
He realized his mistake almost as soon as he made it. When she shrunk away from him, he had to hasten to stop her. "No, wait!" he said, grabbing for her wrist.

He hadn't meant to do that.  
He flushed even redder as she looked down, affronted, at where his hand anchored her to the tree root on which she was standing.

Her eyes slowly, reluctantly, lifted their gaze to met his. She was giving him another chance; he knew it may just be his last.

"Watch," he said, deciding that, in this case, showing her would do much better than attempting to explain with words. He held out the hand that wasn't still keeping her still; he held out his empty palm for her to see, and then closed it again. He closed his eyes and concentrated, and when he opened them, the same flower that Lily had manipulated for her sister appeared in the palm of his hand. She gasped in excitement, and came even closer to him in order to examine the flower. He sighed in relief, and the flower's petals became brighter and larger. Her hair brushed against his wrist as she studied it; it was still warm from a day spent in the hot summer sun.

"You can do magic, too. You're a witch," he said again. "And I'm a wizard."

She smiled at him; it was a silent, little grin, but he tried to ingrain into his mind so as to never forget it. Nobody had ever smiled at him like that before.

She held out her hand, and from her palm bloomed a dark flower. It appeared to be a dandelion, only rather than white, it was coal black. He stared down at the flower he was holding. She giggled, and he hastily brought the flower behind his back.

His face was burning again, but he was more pleased than he could have imagined.  
_Was this what it was like to have a friend?_

"It happens at home, too, doesn't it?" Lily asked into the darkness, louder this time. "Magic, I mean."

"Yes," he said, hesitantly. "Until we learn to control it at Hogwarts, it will happen without us even trying." He thought of all the times he had accidentally hurt his father. "Sometimes it's a bad thing," he muttered, hollowly. "I gave my father a big mole once."

She giggled again. He marveled at her laugh, absurdly happy that he'd been the one to encourage it. Somehow.

"I think I might have made Petunia trip in the sandbox once," Lily said. "She deserved it, though. She was cheating," she added, suddenly defensive.

He chuckled; it was a hollow, scratchy sound, a long unused action. When had he chuckled before?

"Why isn't Petunia a witch?" Lily asked, curiosity wrinkling her eyebrows. "Or mum and dad? Why aren't they? Why isn't everybody?"

Severus shrugged. "I don't know. Some people are just born with magic, I guess," he said. "I'm magic because my mum was."

Lily smiled again. "Wow. So you always knew about that," she wondered at it for a moment. "How do we learn how to control it?"

"Well–" he began, "You have to get training at Hogwarts. You'll go when you're older."

They were still standing behind the tree, and the sky got darker and darker until he could only see the silhouette of her figure.

"Where's that?"

"I don't know," Severus began. "Somewhere in Scotland, I think. It's a pretty long ride."

"How do we get there?"

"A train'll come," he replied, getting excited, "But we only ride a train to fool the muggles, I bet."

"But what's the_—_"

"_Severus!" _His father's voice drifted on the wind, interrupting Lily, sounding very angry even from the distance between them. He flinched.  
His father had noticed that he wasn't still in the closet, then.

"That's you?" Lily asked, noticing his reaction.

"Severus Snape," he confirmed, biting his lip nervously.

"I'm Lily Evans," she said, reaching out a hand; but of course, Severus already knew her name. However, he was rather sure that he didn't want her to know how much he already knew about her. He shook her hand anyway, wishing he didn't have to go back with his father. It was so much nicer to talk with Lily than to sit silently while his father yelled.

"Nice to meet you," he said, sullenly.

"_SEVERUS!"_

He shivered; this time it sounded even louder, angrier. He was going to be in for it, tonight. He didn't want to go back. But he had to.

Lily seemed to be able to tell. "You better get home quick before it's worse," she said softly, kindly. Kind? To him? "But can you meet me here again? Maybe tomorrow? I want to know more about Hogwash."

"Hogwarts," he corrected her absentmindedly. "And... well, maybe," he hedged, hoping against hope that he'd have another chance before the end of the week to get out of the house. All the while, as he felt the fear rushing through his head, he also felt a sort of excitement. He had made a friend, no matter what his father had said. She wanted to _talk_ to him.

"Okay," she said, quietly. "Good luck," she added, showing him one more smile and handing him the black dandelion. He hesitated, but took it after a moment, giving her his demonstrative flower in return. She took it, smiling at it, before she turned her smile up to him. She hesitated, but finally gave him a one-armed hug in farewell. He stiffened in surprise at the contact. It wasn't just her hands or her hair, she was a warm person in general.

"See you tomorrow, Severus."

"See you... Evans..." he said, but she had already run off to get to her own house. She left him standing there, still feeling her warmth on his shoulder. He stared off even after she had disappeared into the darkness, smiling just a little bit.  
She had called him Severus. Not Snape.  
His first name, not his awful surname.

"_SEVERUS!_"

That snapped him from his daze, and he turned around and ran as fast as he could for home.

* * *

In the morning, Severus' head was pounding. He sat up on his bed, wondering how he had gotten there. His father's conversation with him still rang in his memory.

_"Where the hell were you, boy?"  
__"I wasn't far, I swear! I just met this girl in the neighborhood..."  
__"You stay away from girls," he snapped. "You don't be careful and you'll hurt one."  
__"I wouldn't do that! She's my... She's my friend!"  
__"Friends are all liars in your case. They don't _really_ like you. Who could?!"  
__"But I–"  
__"DO _NOT_ CONTRADICT ME, BOY!"_

It suddenly came to him from where his headache had come. He gently covered the red mark on the side of his head with his hand, where his father had knocked him to the floor. He hadn't eaten supper. His stomach snarled at him. Had he even eaten lunch? Breakfast?

"Wake up!" his father's shout echoed through the house and into his little room. "Get out here and eat!" Severus tumbled out of his bed and hurried down the stairs.

His room wasn't very large, nor was it incredibly small. He didn't like it, though, because it was always too bright. There were several windows, and no curtains. It wasn't particularly the brightness that bothered him, but the fact that his father merely wanted him shrouded in it, as if he were a demon that needed purging. Maybe he thought it would brighten his hair or eyes, darken his skin. It had so far done no such thing. He didn't spend much time in his room, save to sleep. Usually, the closet was where he spent most of his time, and there wasn't any light in there. He remembered that he used to cry because of how frightening it was, the darkness having felt like tentacles, the small space strangling him slowly. After the first few days, he'd learned how to never be afraid of the dark again; he'd had to learn, if he were to save himself.

When he reached the living room, he realized how he'd gotten into his bed at all.

His mother was home. It was five days she had gone this time, and now she was back, sitting in a wooden chair at the table and scrolling over a _Daily Prophet_ that she must have gotten from work. When his father turned around, the title on the front changed to _'The Times_'. A charm.

Eileen didn't particularly like Severus, either, he knew; but at least she would care for him and put some effort into raising him to be a proper child. She glanced up at him when he entered the room before returning her eyes to the paper. He had a feeling that she was disappointed that she hadn't succeeded, despite her efforts.

"Hello, mum," Severus muttered.

"Quiet son, she's tired," his father growled, but it was obvious that he only wanted the silence for himself. His mother noticed.

"Don't tell me that I'm tired, Tobias," she said carelessly, flipping the page of _the Times_, which was actually_ the Prophet_. "Leave the boy alone, too. What'd you do to him when I was gone?"

"He surpassed his curfew," _—_though he actually hadn't_— _"And he needed discipline. Boys like _him_," he gestured at Severus as if he were a rather nasty bit of stain on the carpet, "They need it beaten out."

"_What," _Eileen Prince hissed, eyes flicking up from _the Prophet_, "do you mean by 'it'?"

"I mean," his father said just as darkly, setting down the pan he had been making himself eggs with, "_your bad blood."_

His mother stood and smacked the table, a plate appearing at Severus's place, the two eggs from the pan sizzling atop it. His mother's face went sour as she began screeching in defense of her heritage. His father just yelled all the louder to get his voice to carry over her's.

Severus shoved both eggs whole into his mouth, one after the other, letting them scorch his tongue and throat, and ran out of the house before it could get much worse.

It was around nine in the morning from the position of the sun. Certainly Lily was awake, but she wouldn't be at the playground, yet. There was little for him to do but wander.

And so he did just that, leaving the clash and clangor of the battle behind and walking down the street. His hands were in his pockets, and he thought about what Hogwarts would be like, for probably the first time in the past few years.  
He wouldn't have to go home every night. He wouldn't be dealing with the same kids at school... And maybe these new kids would leave him alone... Or maybe they would be more like Lily and talk to him, even after he'd made a mistake. Wasn't he going to be sorted into a House? Weren't people in the same House supposed to be similar?

But then... would he be in the same House as Lily? Lily was everything Severus was not.

He shook his head. He wouldn't think about this; there was no point in thinking about it when it wasn't in his power to change anything. He still had two years before he got his letter, anyway.

It was Saturday, and most everyone was still in their homes, taking their time to wake up.

He jumped and turned his head when he heard barking coming from the inside of a house at his passing. He knew the dog's name, Boxer, that he only barked half-heartedly in self-defense. He'd heard the owners scold him before. The large hound was looking at him, growling from behind the backyard fence. He left before the owners came outside.

He found he was heading toward the playground, despite the fact that if ever Lily and Petunia showed up, it was mid- to late-afternoon. He didn't know where else there was to go, and he certainly didn't want to go back home.

When he sat on the bench, the sunlight warming his cold skin, he thought of his father.

"_Your bad blood_."

Bad blood. Was is a bad thing, to be magic? Was it a bad thing _not_ to be magic? His father was certainly awful, but he hadn't met many other muggles besides Petunia. He didn't think he particularly liked her either, but he didn't see what could possibly be wrong with either of them. Muggles were unlucky, and that was all Severus could seem to make of it. He had both kinds of blood.  
But Lily... What about her?

She was magic. But her parents weren't... And neither was her sister. His mother called witches and wizards like her mudbloods, and each time she said it, her voice darkened in both regret and anger. The books called them muggle-borns, and never expressed anything negative about them.

It didn't matter, he thought. She was just as capable of magic as he was... More, he wouldn't doubt.

He stared at a small patch of white dandelions sitting a few meters away, just to put his eyes on something.  
_Where did magic come from?  
_Blood didn't matter, obviously. Or did it?

He stared up at the sky, his neck curved against the head of the bench, thinking about blood and magic. His head still hurt, and he was still tired from a night of fitful sleep. Eventually, he fell into a sounder sleep, as he knew that he wouldn't have to wake to his parents' angry voices.

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Lily, sitting beside him on the bench, swinging her legs beneath her and watching him slowly awaken.  
"Evans!" he startled, straightening as quickly as he could and closing his mouth, which had fallen open in sleep. When he straightened, though, his bum slipped on the seat, as his position had slowly sunken downward. He grasped in vain at the seat to stop himself, but he missed and ended up sprawled on the ground at Lily's feet.

He scrambled to stand; blood was burning beneath the skin of his cheeks and ears, and he put a hand against his back where it stung quite severely from the fall. Lily was laughing breathlessly, tears leaking from her eyes. Severus stood there in front of her, at a loss for words. He looked away hastily to hide the blood filling his face and staining his neck and ears scarlet.

Lily was still laughing when she attempted to speak.

"I'm sorry..." she choked, still breathless. "I didn't... think... you would... jump that much..."

"Yeah, well," he said sheepishly to the patch of grass at her feet. There were a few moments of silence as she struggled to control herself.

"So what were you dreaming about?" she finally asked, her legs swinging back and forth again as she was continually assaulted with fits of giggles.

He thought back at the fleeting memory.

...The closet door slamming in his face. The flashlight was missing, for some reason that he wasn't able to place anymore. He had sat there, crying for some reason that he couldn't quite remember. And then a flashlight had flicked on in the corner...

He covered his face with his hair, shaking his head. "I don't remember."

"I had a dream last night," Lily said absently, "I dreamt that I had a magic wand and when I waved it, you turned into a bunny rabbit and hopped into a magician's hat. I didn't know the magicians' name, but he looked sort of like you, only bigger, like an adult you," she said, looking up at the sky as if she were searching for something in the clouds. "I'm not sure where I got the hat from, though," she added. "Weird how dreams don't really make much sense."

"Interesting," he said, even though the hat wasn't the only part of the dream that, by muggle standards at least, didn't make sense. His face finally started to cool down. "Why a rabbit?"

"I dunno," she said, shrugging. "Regular magicians do that sort of thing. You were a cute, white, little rabbit, and you kept twitching your whiskers."

"You mean _muggle_ magicians do that sort of thing?"

"Yeah," she said. "Those ones."

He studied her. She really didn't know much about the wizard world at all, not even the name for those that _weren't _magic.

"What?" she asked. He realized he was staring at her again.

He struggled for something to say. "A white rabbit?" he asked, tugging at his greasy, disheveled black hair. Her hair didn't look very well tended either, if he was honest; just a bit frizzy, but nice.

"Yes," she said, surprising him. "You're really pale, you know that?"

"What?" he asked, dumbstruck.

"Like a rabbit," she smiled. "You just need whiskers."

"Oh," he realized, remembering. "Well, I don't have rabbit ea... are my ears big?" he asked, suddenly, tugging at them self-consciously.

"What sort of animal am I?" she asked, ignoring his question. He wasn't sure whether or not he was glad that she did.

He studied her again. Her hair was a dark red, but shown brighter in the sunlight; her eyes were emerald green, and they brightened whenever she laughed. She was always smiling, and could never seem to stay on the same subject for any longer than a few seconds. He didn't know much about her yet...

"A bird," he found himself saying, before she noticed how intently he was staring. "One of the small ones. Like a mockingbird."

"Why?" she asked, brow furrowing.

"Well... you're happy most of the time. You have a big smile. Mockingbirds are singers and... I don't know," he stopped himself from rambling, embarrassed. "I don't know," he repeated. "In terms of animals, it's the first thing I think of. Just... Fits you."

She smiled. "Petunia! What do you think Petunia is?"

Severus frowned. "I don't know your sister," he said, quietly. _Or you, for that matter. _"And I don't think she likes me." _Not that many people do._

"I think she's a dog," Lily said, suddenly, a thoughtful look crossing her face.

"A _dog?"_

"Ha! See?" she snickered. "That's the way I thought when you called me a witch."

"Why is she a dog?" Severus asked, not wanting to make any assumptions for fear of insulting or angering Lily.

"She protects me," Lily said simply. "And she's tough and loyal. She's a little bit of a nuisance at times, though. And her temper is short."

"Huh."

"So tell me about Hogwarts," Lily quipped, turning to fully face him and crossing her legs on the bench. "What is Hogwarts, anyway? You mentioned it last night. Oh! And I want to know about wands. And why is Petunia a muggle? And magic, too, Sev!"

Severus rolled his eyes to himself. It was difficult to run out of conversation with this girl.  
It wasn't a bad thing, though. He hadn't spoken so much in his entire life.

And then he realized... had she just called him Sev?

"Well," he began, still a little dumbstruck. "A muggle is nonmagical, that's what Petunia is. Your mum and dad are, too. A wand is just the same as what muggles think it is, but there are different ones for each witch or wizard, and no one's wand is ever the same. I've never been to Hogwarts before, but I've read in my mother's books, and it's a huge castle..."

* * *

Lily listened to him with rapt attention as he explained. She was the perfect audience, mouth hanging open just the slightest bit as he spoke. She didn't attempt to veil her complete interest, instead nodding excitedly whenever he paused, and urging him on whenever he tried to refrain from rambling and leaving her out.

And so he sat there, recalling everything he could from the countless books he'd read, and when the sun began nearing the horizon, and the sky dimmed, he still hadn't finished. In fact, he'd only just finished half of what he knew about Hogwarts, not even touching on Azkaban and Hogsmead and the other schools. Most of this information came from his mother's history books, but the important bits came from his mother's own mouth; he could remember when she used to tell him stories about Hogwarts, before things had gone so horrible between his parents. He connected the stories and tried to paint a picture in his mind of what it was like. It was this crude picture in his head that he described to Lily.

"Where is it, really?" Lily asked, referring to the last thing he had mentioned. Severus snickered beneath his hand at the comic whine he could hear in her voice. "You said Slytherin house is below ground level, but _where _below ground level?"

"I don't know," Severus said, frowning. "And I... Well, it's getting late. I don't want to be any later than I was last time."

"Oh," Lily said lightly, and when she didn't pursue the subject any further, Severus felt a rush of gratitude. It was as if she knew when urging him to talk wouldn't bother him, and when to leave the subject alone. "I think Petunia's going to start worrying about me, anyway."

Petunia had come and gone once already that day; the moment she had seen Severus, she had called Lily over. They had talked for a small while, Lily shifting her weight from foot to foot in impatience or embarrassment, Severus couldn't have told.

Petunia had hissed and spat, eyes narrowed, but Lily had seemed to be standing her ground. Petunia left then, stomping off the playground with her arms crossed, letting out a petulant huff. Lily had watched her go; Severus, as he was unable to see her face from his angle, couldn't tell if the exchange had upset her. After a second or two, though, she had come scampering back to the bench, where she had urged him to continue.

"You know," Severus began, seemingly out of the blue. "I can see the dog now."

Lily giggled. "She's a good sister, though, whether she be a little overprotective or not. I haven't told my parents I'm a witch, yet," she changed the subject again. "I'm not really sure how."

"Just show them," Severus said, deciding that letting her lead the conversation in whatever direction she pleased was probably the best idea. "Show them what you can do. Tell them what I said."

"It sounds too crazy, though," she said. "How could they believe me?"

"Just try, show them something. You didn't believe me either at first, not until I showed you that thing with the flower," Severus said. She opened her mouth again, but Severus saw where the sun was in the sky, how late it had gotten, and interrupted her frantically. "I have to go. My mother's home... I don't know how long she'll stay."

"Okay," Lily said, and after bidding him a quick farewell, she skipped off to her house, humming some muggle tune under her breath.

As Severus stood to go, he thought about her reasoning into calling Petunia a dog, and he a rabbit. He thought of her quiet, polite acceptance of his excuses. He thought of her equal capacity to talk _and_ to listen. She had been able to purposely manipulate a flower, before even learning what magic _was_. He thought of how she must have learned as she went, remembering and becoming familiar with the feeling of performing her 'magic trick.'

There was something peculiar about her. As if she had grown up centuries ago, but kept all the proclivities and interests of the girl of nine (for that's how old she'd claimed to be) that she was. Being nine-years-old himself, he was surprised to see the mixture of maturity and carelessness that she exemplified. His classmates had been nothing like him, but there was something in Lily that he felt like he could relate to, though he doubted _she_ could relate to _him_.

He headed home, the thoughts still whirring in his head; thoughts of their opaque differences, but also of their translucent similarities.

* * *

The next day, he was waiting for her on the park bench, taking care to remain awake. Suddenly, and apparently close by, the strangest bird call he'd ever heard in his life reached his ears. He stood up and approached the sound, wondering what he was hearing. He didn't have time to contemplate it much further, for as he neared the large tree from where it had come, he was immediately tackled to the ground by something nearly his size that had materialized from behind it. He landed on his back, facing up at a smiling Lily, a piece of paper rolled into a cone and taped to her nose, which, as she was on her hands and knees over top of him, was a breath away from poking his own nose.

She wore a white shirt, much too large for her, and grasped a gray sheet, which was wrapped around her back, in the fists of her two hands, pressing his arms into the ground, holding him still until he stopped struggling. It suddenly occurred to him what she was attempting to look like.  
It was the most poorly improvised Mockingbird costume he had ever seen.

"Tweet," she said, completely serious.

He stared at her in complete and utter shock, mouth agape, hair splayed out behind his head like a dark halo.  
And then he began to laugh.

It was a soft whisper of a laugh at first, but as she returned the smile, and the movement of her cheeks broke the tape and sent the cone spiraling onto his face, it became a laugh in earnest. And then he was laughing more than ever before, more than he had ever imagined he ever would. His stomach and chest began to ache, tears fell from his eyes.

"There!" Lily said, laughing with him and falling to lie on the ground beside him. She sounded triumphant, but didn't explain the reason. Instead, she hit his shoulder playfully. "Now you have to dress up like a rabbit."

"I don't have any rabbit costumes," he said, the choking laugh still bubbling up from his chest. "What kind of rabbit has dark hair?"

"What kind of mockingbird has red hair?" Lily countered sternly, as if his was not a proper excuse. "But I'm a _beautiful_ bird, _right_ Sev?" She sat up, and the look she gave him, eyes threatening, brought more laughter, coming easier this time. He looked up at her again, her hair flying wildly in her face, frizzy with static as it clung to her neck. Her eyes were an even brighter green than he remembered. Those eyes gleamed with the demand that he compliment her costume, no matter how thrown together it appeared.

He decided it was best not to argue.

"Yeah," he said, still grinning. It was an odd, unfamiliar feeling to be happy. "A _beautiful _bird."

* * *

**STORY NOTES:**

**In J.K. Rowling's book, the first meeting scene is described through the eyes of Harry as he looks into the pensieve that contains Headmaster Snape's tears. Harry uses the words, 'obsessive' and 'greedy' in his description of Snape all throughout '_Chapter 33: The Prince's Tale_.'  
After much thought on the subject, it occurred to me that Harry may be slightly blinded by a previously-acquired hatred of Professor Snape. I read and reread the chapter over and over again, trying to see the story through Snape's eyes. I made ****inferences, came to conclusions that I thought had at least some reasoning behind them, and started to write these things down.**

**I use a lot of metaphors, including Snape's description of Lily as similar but opposite. I make a point to contrast them even further in personality than I feel other fics do. Many of them show Lily as a stern, hard-working perfectionist. I agree with their vision of her, as I see the same thing subtly hinted at in chapter 33, but I've always had this notion that she was exceedingly expressive as a child, cheerful, playful. I see a girl that wouldn't have been popular in school, exactly, but instead more interested in her own happiness, the happiness of others, and individuality. I see Snape as the stern one, but also timid and hesitant, before things go wrong, of course.**

**I've certainly taken Harry's description of 'greedy' into account in the park scene at the beginning, when he meets her. Harry saw greed differently than I did, though. I saw greed, rather than as '_want_', as _envy. _Anyone could infer that Severus' home life was hell from the books, and after reconstructing it from the fleeting images of it that we see in book five, six, and seven, I started thinking that he would be envious of _anyone_, especially the Evans', Of having a sibling and a friend, anyone with the freedom to do what they want.**

**This, of course, becomes obsession. However, if we are to really see this from Snape's point of view, we wouldn't notice.  
I think of obsession in relative terms. Obsession is obvious to everyone, except, of course, the obsessor, and the one with which the obsessor is obsessed (up to a certain point, of course).  
And so, Snape is unaware of his obsession, and so must be forgiven for his ignorance and social ****ineptness. For he has, of course, missed out on the life required to understand how things will be perceived.**

**And as for the last scene, I just wanted him to laugh at least once in his early life. Children should laugh.**

**If you think you've seen anything that may be of importance, and you'd like to know my reasoning behind phrasing something the way I did, or constructing a scene the way I did, feel free to review me or PM me with your question or inference as to my meaning- after all, there are many hints that I've hidden in that chapter and haven't mentioned here... you might just find something.**

* * *

**For nonscensical one-shots and other stories, see my other profile, ListeningSilence.**

**~Thank you.**


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